Breaking the Case
by fancyterrible
Summary: A nearly chaste kiss after a long day of work throws Maura and Jane's relationship into turmoil. This will be multi-chapter and definitely M-rated.
1. Chapter 1

_**OK, so this is a little more angsty than I usually write. It's also super short. But I think it might be leading somewhere. Let me know if I should keep working on this one.**_

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They were in Maura's kitchen when it happened. The day had been a long one. A tough case, too many lingering questions, pressure from Cavanaugh… Jane was clearly stressed out, and Maura was preoccupied. They ate their dinner silently, still standing, famished from their non-stop workday.

Maura took a deep breath and a sip of wine. She rolled her neck from side to side and kicked off her heels. Her feet ached, though she would never admit her Louboutins hurt her. Nothing that pretty should hurt. Maura looked at Jane.

Jane, hunched over her box of noodles and chicken. Jane, hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail. Jane, still in her suit jacket. Jane, taking a pull from her beer. Jane, not noticing Maura's stare. Never noticing Maura's stares.

Nothing that pretty should hurt.

"I'm sorry Cavanaugh is being so tough on you," Maura said quietly. Jane shrugged and didn't answer. Maura could see the lines on her forehead, though. The stress was evident. "I should have the toxicology results back tomorrow," Maura continued, mostly talking to herself. "There could be any number of-"

Jane stepped behind Maura to drop her fork in the sink and her empty take-out container in the trash. "I'm going to go," she said, interrupting Maura's mini-monologue. "I'm going to watch the game, drink about sixteen beers, and pretend this day never happened." She offered up a half-smile, but her eyes were tired.

"Sixteen beers is a lot for a school night, Jane," Maura said. She was pleased when that earned her a smile.

"Maybe two beers then," Jane countered. "And an early bed time."

Maura nodded. She didn't really want Jane to go, but she knew when the detective needed her space, plus Maura was one hundred percent certain Jane would text or call once she got home. Especially after more than one beer. Maura could tell Jane needed to talk through the case, figure out which of the suspects killed that cop. And when Jane was ready to run through some theories, Maura was ready to listen.

"OK, Poindexter. I'll see you in the morning." Jane play-punched Maura's arm and Maura swatted it away.

"Careful, Roly-Poly Rizzoli. I can break a board with these hands." Maura play-punched Jane back and they laughed soft, tired, end-of-the-day laughs. "Drive safe, Jane," Maura said as Jane walked toward the door. Maura went to follow her out so she could lock up, but her phone dinged. She pulled it off the kitchen counter and scrolled through her new messages. "Jane!" Maura's voice was urgent, excited. "Susie's working late. The toxicology results just came back."

Jane whipped around, her ponytail swishing, her eyes wide, expectant. "And?"

Maura looked into Jane's hopeful face, smiling. "And it was a phenobarbital overdose. Just like you thought."

Jane took four long strides back into the kitchen. She stood next to Maura, looking over at the message on Maura's phone. "Could it have come from that pinprick you found?"

"I can't say with certainty, but since there was no residue of the medication in his digestive tract and he had-" Maura trailed off as she scrolled through the data.

Jane gave Maura's chin a little nudge with her finger so that Maura lifted her eyes to Jane's. "That sounds pretty certain to me." She showed off her dimples with a huge grin. "I think you just broke the case, Dr. Isles."

Maura smiled, but shrugged off the compliment. "I didn't break the case, Jane. It was the science. It's always the science. You can trust your hunches all you want, but," Maura was startled into silence as Jane squeezed her in a spontaneous hug.

"Oh, Maura," Jane breathed with relief. "I better call Korsak and Cavanaugh. They can get the warrants we need to catch this son of a bitch." Jane moved to pull away from the hug, but Maura felt herself still holding on. After such a trying day, and working so many dead ends, after standing alone in the morgue all day, surrounded by death, having Jane's warm, vibrant, humming body next to hers was a relief. A pleasure, really. Maura held the hug even longer and pushed her face into Jane's neck. Then, for just the briefest of seconds, she let her lips brush the flushed skin. She felt Jane's body relax for just a moment, and then it tensed. Jane broke away from Maura, staring at her best friend, the room filling with heavy silence. Maura's lips burned from where they'd touched Jane's neck. Her cheeks were hot, her heart pounding. Jane's hand was on her neck, holding the spot where Maura had grazed her.

Jane opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes were wide, confused… and something else. Something unreadable.

"Jane, I…" Maura started, but didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do.

The two women stood, breathing hard, saying nothing, staring like it was the first time either one had actually seen the other.

"I… I have to go," Jane said. Her voice was low, tight. Her hand still on her neck. She turned quickly and was out the door before Maura even had a chance to really register what had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks so much for the comments, you guys. I know this isn't a terribly original idea, but every writer has to take a shot at what she wants to write, right? This is an exercise in something different for me, and it's been fun. I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't, that's cool, too. **_

_**As always, let me know what you think!**_

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4:12. 4:13. 4:14. 4:15. Maura stared at the clock glowing on her nightstand. She picked up her phone, which she'd left facedown on her stomach. No messages. Not that there should be any messages at 4:15 am, but she hoped Jane would have responded to her earlier missives. She'd sent a quick, "Hey," text message a few hours after Jane left, hoping that Jane would be on her couch, a couple of beers down, enjoying the Red Sox and their winning streak – and that she'd be willing to talk. But Maura had gotten no response. She'd tried again with a "What did Cavanaugh say?" hoping that maybe a work question would entice Jane to respond. But, she got nothing.

Now it was nearly time to get up. Well, if she and Jane were going for a run she'd have to be ready in a few hours. But were they going for their regular run? Maura had replayed the incident from last night over and over in her head. It wasn't really that big of a deal, was it? Just a neck nuzzle. It wasn't like she'd even kissed Jane's neck. Not really. Just a graze. It wasn't something she'd even thought about doing before she did it – it felt so natural. It was more like, how could she _not_ have done it? Surely Jane could understand that. Surely something so pure of intention, something so simple, wouldn't create a huge barricade between them… right?

But then Maura replayed Jane's reaction over and over again in her head. Jane's hand flying up to her neck as if Maura had bitten her. Her eyes so wide, her mouth working to speak, but saying nothing. Obviously, to Jane, the so-natural-it-just-happened neck thing didn't seem like a simple response to a tired, end of the day hug. Obviously, Jane was surprised. Surprised and… Maura shuddered to think what else. Had those huge eyes been angry? Maura had never seen Jane flee a scene like she did when she bolted from the kitchen. There was even a little black scuff mark on the floor from Jane's boot stumbling out the front door.

4:31. 4:32. 4:33. 4:44. Maura closed her eyes, her hand still gripping her phone. It wasn't even a kiss. It wasn't more than their usual hand grabs or butt slaps or shoulder nudges. It wasn't _anything_. But if it wasn't anything, why was she still awake? Why hadn't Jane texted back? Maura groaned and flipped over on her stomach. She pulled a pillow over her head. Because it _was_ something. She knew it was something. She knew it from the warm feeling that had overcome her body when her face made contact with Jane's neck. She knew it from the fact that she hadn't stopped thinking about it for nearly nine hours. She knew it from the look on Jane's face. From that nearly imperceptible shift in Jane's posture when Maura's lips committed their treachery. Jane had stilled at first. Had almost melted, really. But then just as quickly, her defenses were up. And she was gone.

Maura pressed the pillow over her head. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. Not just what had happened earlier, but the whole thing – the whole tangle of confusing feelings she had for Jane. They had been friends once, just friends. Then they'd become good friends. Then best friends. Then Maura realized she never stopped thinking about Jane. She talked to Jane in her head as much – or more – than she did in real life. She conspired to make her laugh. Her day didn't start and didn't end until she'd seen Jane's face, heard her voice. Somewhere, somehow, over the years, Maura had fallen in love.

It was so irrational. So unlike her. You don't fall in love with your best friend! She'd secretly watched enough romantic comedies to know that this sort of thing was a fantasy. It was a trope. She could probably find a dozen studies proving that-

Maura's phone buzzed.

Her heart leapt so suddenly and violently, she felt the bed shake. Taking a deep breath, she tossed the pillow off her head and flipped over. Laying flat on her back she held up her phone. The glow from the screen was the only light in the room, and it cascaded over her face.

Jane: you up?

Maura: Yes.

Jane: you sleep at all?

Maura: No. You?

Jane: no

Maura didn't know what to say next, so she waited. She was using Jane's own trick on her, which felt a bit traitorous, but if Maura had learned anything about detective work it was that sometimes just staying quiet made people talk more than any question could.

5:03. 5:04. 5:05. 5:06.

Jane: you still there?

Maura: Yes.

Jane: the sox won

Maura: I know.

Jane: you watched the game?!

Maura: No. But I kept track of the score. I need to be able to gauge your mood.

Jane: I would type a tongue sticking out face if those weren't so stupid

Maura: They aren't stupid. Sometimes it's difficult to understand a person's emotional state when you're just reading text.

Jane: :P

5:10. 5:11. 5:12. 5:13.

Jane: so

Maura: So.

Jane: i'm sorry i ran out like that

Maura: It's OK.

Jane: don't say anything else right now about it, though, ok? Just... don't.

Jane: do you want to go running?

Jane: maura?

Jane: did you fall asleep on me?

Maura: You said not to say anything else right now.

Jane: :P

Maura: :P

Maura: Yes, I would like to go running, Jane.

Jane: i'll be there in half an hour

Maura sat up, her messy hair falling over her shoulders. She felt exhausted, but lighter. Jane didn't want to talk about it. Fine. They were going to have to talk about it some time, but Maura didn't feel rushed. Not now that she knew Jane didn't hate her.

She climbed out of bed and padded to her closet. The light was bright, harsh, and she blinked hard as she chose her running outfit. Her eyes were tearing up from the sudden sharp light... but no. It wasn't just from that. Maura leaned down to grab her sneakers, remembering how she had dragged Jane to a specialty store that would allow them to run on a treadmill so the fitting of their shoes would be exact. She remembered how Jane scoffed and joked about how you were just supposed to buy shoes and break them in. "You see what fits, it hurts like hell for a few weeks, and then when your blisters heal you know you've broken them in."

Maura felt the tears rising, and it made her feel ridiculous. It was just the exhaustion playing havoc with her emotions. She wanted to believe that was true. She sat on the floor of her closet, staring at the shoes, swiping away her tears, chewing the corner of her thumbnail.

You see what fits, it hurts like hell for a few weeks, you heal, and you know you've broken them in.

Jane fit. Jane had always fit.

But could Maura survive the hurting stage? The healing? Could Maura break her in? Was that even a possibility with Jane?


	3. Chapter 3

_**Forgive me for this one, y'all. Evil writer is evil. :) **_

_**Please let me know what you think. I love hearing from you guys! **_

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Maura knew her eyes were red. Very likely she had some periorbital swelling as well. She didn't want to look in the mirror. She just swept her hair up into a ponytail, tied her shoes, and jogged in place in the dark living room.

Part of her didn't want Jane to see her like this: tired, no make-up, fully showing her 37 years in the small lines around her eyes and mouth. This is what happens when you get no sleep. This is what happens when you spend an entire night worrying.

Another part of her wanted Jane to see her like this, though. She wanted Jane to see her pain. She wanted Jane to see her years, to see her as she is. Maura knew Jane _had_ seen her like that – dozens of times, really. But this was somehow different. This time, the puffiness, the red eyes, the worry lines, they were because of her feelings for Jane. These outward signs of her anguish were a conversation all on their own. She wouldn't have to say a word. Jane would be able to look at her and just… know.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Maura took a deep breath and jogged over to it. When she answered, she saw Jane's back. A car was driving slowly down the street and Jane watched it with a detective's suspicion. She was jogging place, too, warming up for their run. Her compression pants hugged her curves in a way Maura found so completely disarming, she wished she'd never taken Jane to the hip little workout clothing boutique. This morning, she needed Jane in 20-year-old sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. She did not need a svelte, fit Jane standing in front of her.

The car slowly turned a corner, and Jane turned to face Maura. It was still dark outside, but the edges of the sky were turning a lighter shade of blue. The sun would be up by the time they were done with their run.

"Hey," Jane said. The streetlight caught the shine of her bouncing ponytail and cast a warm light behind her. A halo, Maura thought, hours of college art history classes coming to her suddenly. Haloes were common not just in Christian religious iconography, but all the way back in Buddhist art from as early as the first century AD. Of course, in Indian and Buddhist art, this kind of backlighting was often called an aureola – an artistic cloud motif – because it surrounded the full body rather than just the head. That's what this looked like. An aureola. Not areola, of course. Not the pink halo of skin around a nipple. though the words did share the etymology of- Maura's eyes dipped to Jane's running top and then just as quickly rose to Jane's face. She felt her face warming. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but it was inappropriate.

Jane widened her eyes and barely shook her head. She waved her hand in front of Maura's face. "Earth to Dr. Isles," she said. "You ready?" Maura nodded, jogging out the door and after Jane.

They stayed silent as they ran side-by-side. The first half mile went by, then the second.

"You look like shit," Jane said, finally, glancing over at Maura.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it," Maura answered, looking straight ahead. Maura thought of the studies showing that staring ahead at the horizon while you run will bring on a burst of endorphins faster than if you don't hold a steady gaze. Though Maura also knew if she held a steady gaze at Jane's face she'd get a burst of all kinds of chemicals. And probably fall on her face. She kept her eyes trained ahead.

"I'm just saying. That's all. Don't make me worry about you." Maura could feel Jane glancing at her again. She could also feel her own eyes narrowing.

Maura jutted out her chin, pressing her lips together in a line. She kept staring straight ahead. "Don't make you _worry_ about me? What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Jane blew out a puff of air and started to run a little faster. Maura kept pace with her. "I'm just saying, don't get weird on me, OK," Jane said.

Maura reached over, and without even thinking, shoved Jane off the sidewalk. Hard. Jane stumbled over the curb and onto the street. "What the hell, Maura?" Jane stammered. Her expression was one of confusion, but her eyes sparkled with laughter. She jogged back up onto the sidewalk and took her place next to Maura, giving her a little shove back.

Maura whipped her head around, her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight. "_I'm_ not the one getting weird," she said, and she ran ahead, hitting her target heart rate more from her interactions with Jane than from running.

Her feet pounded the sidewalk, and it felt good to run like this, even though she was exhausted and pushing herself too hard. The sky was growing brighter despite Maura's dark mood. It always buoyed her how the world could just keep turning, even when it felt like her life was spiraling out of control. Her life didn't often spiral out of control, because she kept a quiet vigilance over everything. Sometimes that control loosened whether she wanted it to or not. And yet, the sun always rose. The sky always filled with clouds. People continued going to work, laughing at jokes, crashing their cars, killing out of passion. The trees made oxygen, bees pollinated flowers, the planet just ticked along. The world did not turn on its axis based on the whims of Maura Isles, and for that she was grateful. Science was supreme. Science was comforting. Maura breathed deeply, enjoying the mix of morning dew, bus fumes, and other signs of mother nature and mankind waking up together.

Maura felt a little better knowing that Jane knew she was upset.

Wait. Jane. Where _was_ Jane?

Maura threw a look over her shoulder, ready to tease Jane for being slow, and then stopped cold.

Jane was slumped on the sidewalk. Not moving.

Maura turned on her heel and ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. She was down on one knee in a flash, assessing Jane. The detective's long arms and legs were crumpled beneath her like she'd fallen in mid stride.

"Jane." Maura said. Her voice was deep, firm. It was her Dr. Isles voice. "Jane," she said again louder, her hands gently, but firmly rolling Jane from her twisted position to her back.

Jane was not responding.

Maura felt Jane's neck for a pulse. Nothing. Panic flew up her spine in a series of jolts, causing her to start gasping, to forget everything other than Jane. Jane's face. Jane's half-closed eyes. Jane's still chest. Jane's lips turning the same color as the blue morning twilight.

But then, just as her years of training had taught her, Dr. Maura Isles compartmentalized her panic. Jane became her patient. Jane became her challenge. Maura pulled her phone from the discreet pocket in the back of her running pants, called 911, and tossed it, speakerphone on, next to Jane's head. She put one hand on top of the other, and then put both hands in the center of Jane's chest. Her compressions were exactly as she'd been taught. A two-inch depth, and performed faster than one per second. Her hair was falling out of its ponytail now, wisping around her face as she counted aloud until she hit thirty.

Having lost herself in counting the compressions, she didn't hear whether anyone from 911 had answered. She shouted at the phone anyway, "Officer down!" She gave the address. She hoped someone had heard her.

Gently tilting Jane's head back, Maura pinched Jane's nose closed and covered Jane's mouth with her own. She breathed out forcefully. One puff. Jane's chest rose with Maura's breath. Maura bent back down, put her mouth on Jane's mouth again. A second puff. Again, Jane's chest rose with Maura's breath.

Maura started compressions again. Counting out loud. Crying now, as she lost just a bit of her doctor's composure. "Come on, Jane," she whispered, pushing the heel of her hand into Jane's chest, feeling Jane's ribs give way beneath the repeated pressure. "Don't make me worry about you. _Don't make me worry about you_!"

She pinched Jane's nose, and put her mouth on the detective's. A siren blared in the distance and Maura felt just the tiniest bit of relief trickle through her growing anxiety. Someone had heard her. Help was on the way.

Maura watched Jane's chest rise and fall, knowing that it was her breath, her essence, her life force fighting to keep Jane alive. Maura was _inside_ Jane with every puff of air.

Maura was Jane's life support right now.

Everything else in the world ceased to exist.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks for all your kind words. Sorry to put you through such agony. :) Let me know what you think of this chapter!**_

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Everything was in motion as soon as the ambulance stopped at the hospital. The EMTs kicked open the back of the bus, and wheeled the gurney out with remarkable speed. Maura chased after them, hearing snippets of shouted vitals. "Thirty seven-year-old Caucasian female… collapsed while jogging… unresponsive… two shocks in the bus… achieved a thready pulse…"

Maura caught up with the gurney as the EMTs transferred care to the emergency doctors. Jane was still unconscious. A tube down her throat was connected to a bag that an EMT handed off to a nurse, their movements synchronized so that there was no pause in the squeezed air inflating Jane's lungs. Maura had a momentary thought that she wished it was still _her_ air being breathed into Jane's lungs. Her air could save Jane.

Jane's shirt and sports bra had been cut open, exposing her bare chest. There were two rectangular stickers on opposite sides above and below each breast, where the defibrillator paddles had shocked her. Maura knew the pads were there to protect Jane's skin from burns. Jane's pale skin. Maura looked away. Seeing her friend so vulnerable was a shock to her own heart. She wanted to find a blanket, a towel, use her own shirt, anything, to cover Jane, protect her, warm her, hide her vulnerability from so many eyes.

There was a team of physicians and nurses and techs now, and they rapidly pushed the gurney through a set of double doors marked "Hospital Personnel Only." Maura followed right behind them, until a nurse turned and held up her hand. "I'm sorry ma'am, you can't come back here." Her voice was stern, but not unkind.

"Oh, it's OK," Maura said, willing her voice to sound firm instead of shaky. She knew her face was tear-stained, she understood that she looked the least professional she'd probably looked ever in her life. "I'm her doctor."

The nurse cocked an eyebrow high onto her forehead. "Her doctor?"

Maura blinked twice, feeling the truth tumble from her lips. "Well, I'm _a_ doctor. The Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, actually."

"Well, doctor," the nurse said. "She'd not dead yet. So we have all the help we need." She offered a condescending smile. "Why don't you go have a seat in the waiting area and someone will find you when we know more." With that, the nurse hit a button on the other side of the doors, and they closed quickly, nearly hitting the toes of Maura's shoes.

Maura stood in the harsh lights of the emergency department, staring at the closed doors. Her brain raced through the possibilities of Jane's collapse. Stroke, embolism, aneurysm, sudden cardiac arrest. Her hand went to her mouth as if she could catch the sobs about to erupt. She ran to the waiting area, sought out a private "family" restroom, locked herself inside, and slumped against the wall. She needed someone to hold her, to tell her everything would be OK. And the only person in the world who could do that was Jane. The only person she could believe would be Jane. And the only person who couldn't do it right now? Jane.

A torrent of sobs wracked Maura's body. And she let it. She knew that keeping the emotion inside would only make her sick. Though she was so terrified, so full of adrenalin from the CPR and the ambulance ride, she still threw up. Twice.

"No more crying," she said to herself, when her heaving finally subsided. She was hiccupping and struggling to regulate her breath. "Be done with it, Maura. At least for right now." She splashed water on her face, rinsed out her mouth, did her best to compose herself, and left the bathroom. Once she found a seat in the waiting area she realized she needed to call Angela. Frankie and Tommy, too. But she'd left her phone on the sidewalk in the rush to give Jane's vitals to the paramedics when they took over CPR. Maura took a deep breath. She'd find a courtesy phone. One of the perks of being a genius is that you never forget a phone number – even if you don't have to remember it.

She stood and at that moment a doctor entered the waiting room. "Family of Jane Rizzoli?" he called out in a loud voice. Maura walked briskly to him.

"Is she OK?" Maura blurted. She was hugging herself, trying to keep warm in the freezing waiting area, trying to stave off the shock she knew was creeping into her system. "Has she stabilized? Do you know what caused the cardiac arrest?"

"And you are –" the doctor said blandly, but Maura interrupted.

"I'm _Dr_. Isles. Dr. Maura Isles."

"Mrs. Rizzoli's… sister?" He looked at Maura suspiciously.

"No, I'm not her sister," Maura said, getting impatient with the doctor. "I'm her—"

"Wife?" He was holding some paperwork to his chest, and she could tell he was working hard to keep his face stoic, to not give her a once over.

"What?" Maura answered, feeling her cheeks redden with a sudden burst of confusing anger. "No. No, I'm not her, uh… wife. I'm her friend. Her best friend. I'm her…"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Isles," the doctor said. "HIPPA regulations prevent me from giving you any medical information regarding Mrs. Rizzoli…"

"_Ms._ Rizzoli," Maura corrected.

"_Ms._ Rizzoli. I can't give out her medical information to anyone other than her immediate family or spouse. I'm sure you understand."

Maura said nothing. She felt like she'd been slapped. Of course she knew the HIPPA rules. But this was Jane. Jane _was_ her family. And now more than ever, Maura was realizing that Jane was her everything. Her everything.

The doctor gave Maura a pitying look and she wanted to take the heel of her hand and smash it in the soft waddle under his chin. "I can tell you we're taking her to surgery. Now find her family." He walked briskly away, leaving Maura shaken. Why couldn't she have just lied? Yes, she was Jane's sister. Or, yes, she was Jane's wife. The last thought sent an uninvited and unbidden stab to her chest. The neck kiss. The feelings that were surfacing more and more everyday. She couldn't think about that now. She had to find Angela.

They'd moved to the surgical waiting area. Angela held Maura's hand while she one-handedly rummaged through a giant bag she'd brought. It was full of sandwiches and phone chargers and magazines and energy drinks and extra clothes. This was not Mama Rizzoli's first hospital rodeo.

She held out a bag of fudge clusters to Maura. "You have to eat, Maura. Just a bite."

Maura shook her head. She'd said maybe three words since she'd told Angela the details of the morning – well, _most_ of the details.

Maura's head was spinning. She replayed the events of last night and this morning over and over. What had caused Jane's collapse? She'd seemed mostly fine the night before, maybe extra tired. But the case had been extra difficult. They'd spent so many hours at work the past few days. Had Jane been feverish? Achy? Tachycardic? Maura had no idea. She was so good at diagnosing people with only a few glances and a few questions. How could something like this happen so out of the blue?

But of course she knew things like this happened out of the blue all the time. She saw the results of it on her autopsy tables. Maura blinked back tears. This was different, though, right? Jane wasn't going to end up on a cold metal table. She couldn't. She _couldn't_. A tear slid down Maura's cheek and she didn't even have the wherewithal to swipe it away.

"Oh, Maura." Angela said. "Oh, sweetie." She reached up and wiped away the tears streaming down Maura's face. "You're a hero, you know. Performing CPR like that. You kept your cool. It's OK to let down your guard now. Jane's in good hands."

"How you know that?" Maura said, her voice hitching, thick with emotion. "How do you know they're good hands?" She looked at her own hands, slim long fingers, carefully manicured nails, kept short and polished.

Angela reached into the bag and pulled out a rosary. "Because I have faith, Maura. I have faith in the doctors. I have faith in Jane." She squeezed Maura's hand. "I have faith in you."

Maura shook her head. "I wish I could do that, Angela. And I respect so much that you can. I'm jealous of it," she whispered. "My faith is in science. And I know that only seven to eleven percent of people who suffer from sudden cardiac arrest survive." She put a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Angela's mouth hardened into a thin line. "My Janie has always been in the top percentiles. Even when she wasn't, she should have been. I could never get that girl to study." Angela's face was sad, wistful. Maura squeezed Angela's hand, not trusting herself to saying anything else.

Frankie and Tommy were off in a corner, talking softly, throwing glances at the two women. They'd arrived shortly after Angela, and neither seemed to know what to do or to say. They reminded Maura of teenagers, gangly, awkward in the corner, not sure where to put their hands, not sure how loud their voices should be.

A woman in scrubs entered the waiting room. Maura was up before she even knew who the woman was, or whether she had anything to do with Jane.

"Family of Jane Rizzoli?" the doctor asked.

Maura nodded, as Angela, Frankie and Tommy rushed to her side.

"Your wife is stable." The doctor said to Maura, her face relaxing into a cautious, friendly smile. "Thanks to your immediate resuscitation efforts her brain wasn't deprived of oxygen for long at all."

"Thank God," Maura said.

"Wife?" Angela said, looking at Maura, her face contorted in confusion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the doctor said. She looked down at a patient chart in her hand and looked back up. "I just assumed that since you came in together and you were so…"

"We're just friends," Maura said. Again, she felt a blush rise up her neck. A familiar itch followed. Hives. She couldn't lie. And she knew now, she'd probably known all along, she and Jane had never been just friends. Not really.

The doctor spoke through the growing awkward moment. "It appears Ms. Rizzoli suffered a cardiac event because of a malfunctioning heart valve. We replaced it with an artificial valve. It will be at least another hour or so before she's in recovery. When she goes up to the floor, someone will come get you to take you to her."

"She's going to be OK, then?" Angela asked.

The doctor nodded. "The next few days will be difficult, and she'll have some convalescence time recovering from open heart surgery. But, yes, she should make a full recovery barring any unforeseen infections or other complications."

Angela slumped against Maura. Maura put her arm around Angela's waist to hold her steady, and to hold her own self up. Frankie and Tommy both blew out sighs of relief.

The doctor offered them all a small smile. She reached out and squeezed Maura's hand. "Your… friend… is very lucky to have you," she said with a warm look. And then she was gone, back through the doors to the surgery floor.

Maura let Angela embrace her. She let the feelings of the day steamroll through her as Angela hugged her and hugged her and hugged her. They cried together, with Frankie and Tommy standing off to the side, hands in pockets, eyes downcast.

"She _is_ very lucky to have you, Maura," Angela whispered in Maura's ear. She pushed her away, holding Maura at arm's length. Angela didn't say anything else, but her gaze was piercing, discerning. Maura felt a flush crawling up her neck again. Angela bit the inside of her cheek, looking like she wanted to say something, but saying nothing. She just grabbed Maura up in another hug. "We are _all_ lucky to have you, Maura," she whispered.

Maura took a deep, steadying breath. She was buffered by emotions, not knowing which thought to settle on, which way to turn. So she went for something simple, something tangible.

"Can I have a fudge cluster?" she asked Angela, her voice raw and quiet.

"Of course, dear," Angela said with a grin. "I brought them especially for you." They sat back down and Angela produced the bag of chocolate. Maura took one and chewed, suddenly realizing just how hungry she was. Not just for sustenance, but for so many things. She ate two more while her brain whirled.

_Wife. Wife. Wife. Wife._

The word echoed in her head. She didn't know what to do with it. She didn't know how to make it stop. She didn't know if she _wanted_ it to stop.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I don't know what to say about this chapter, really, other than this story is turning out a lot different than I thought it would. I think that's good, though! And I promise that the next chapter will be less angsty. :) **_

_**As always, I love, love, love to hear what you guys think!**_

###

Maura was wearing Jane's sweatpants. And Jane's BPD shirt. She was swallowed by them, really, but that just made her feel more comforted. It's not that Jane was that much bigger, just taller, her body accentuated in different curves and planes. The clothes smelled like Jane's apartment, and Maura took such comfort in being swaddled by everything Jane.

She stared at the monitor above Jane's hospital bed. Her vitals were there for everyone to see. Blood pressure, heart rate, oxygenation levels. Jane had been unconscious all night and all morning. Thankfully, she was breathing on her own again, no tube down her throat, no ventilator support.

"Knock, knock," Angela poked her head through the door. It was a bit of a ridiculous move because they were in ICU and the doors were clear glass, but Maura appreciated the sentiment.

"Good morning, Angela," Maura said. She could hear how tired her voice sounded. She had forced Angela to go home and get some rest – practically, literally, kicked her out of the room. But Maura knew at least one of them had to be coherent in order to listen to the doctors, and she also knew she was long past the point of coherence.

"Coffee?" Angela held out a tall disposable cup. "I stopped by Boston Joe's. The coffee in this place is not even close to those fancy beans you like." She gave Maura a sympathetic half-smile. Then she noticed her clothes. "Oh, Maura, honey, why didn't you call me? I would have brought up some new clothes for you. Did you not like the jeans and t-shirt I grabbed for you yesterday?"

Maura looked down at the bags of snacks and clothes and toiletries and gave an embarrassed shrug. "I just wanted something more… comfortable… I guess," she said. She found that she was having a hard time keeping eye contact with Angela. It was as if the other woman could look directly into her soul. Maura had never been very good at reading people's expressions and when she was tired it was especially difficult. Plus, she didn't want to see what Angela was thinking right now. If she were perfectly honest with herself, she didn't want Angela to even be here. That was a terrible thought, Maura knew. And she felt incredibly guilty for having it. But she needed to be with Jane. She wanted no distractions. She wanted her own face to be the first thing Jane saw when she awoke. She wanted her own presence to be the first thing Jane sensed. She knew it was selfish of her. And she felt terrible about it.

"Have a muffin," Angela said, pressing one into Maura's hand. "You have to eat, Maura. Then you have to rest. You need to be strong for Janie."

Maura didn't want to eat. She didn't want to rest. She put her hand on Jane's arm, careful to avoid the tape of the IV. Jane's arm was warm, too warm. She knew that a fever was common after open heart surgery, but she also knew it could be indicative of a burgeoning infection. It made her stomach go cold.

"Take the coffee and the muffin and go home, Maura." Angela held out her keys. "You can take my car. Take a shower, rest up. I won't let anything happen to Jane, I promise. I won't leave her side." Angela smiled, looking worried, but also adamant.

"No." Maura's voice came out harder and louder than she meant it to.

Angela's eyes darted up in surprise. She opened her mouth to say something.

"No!" Maura said again, firmer. "I will not leave her, Angela."

"Honey, she's unconscious. And if you're not careful, you'll be unconscious soon, too. You've done so much for her already, Maura. Go take care of yourself. I'll call you if anything changes while you're gone. And if Janie wakes up I'll…"

Maura pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. They burned. She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the surprising anger she felt. "I'm not leaving her, Angela," she said slowly, enunciating every word, making sure Angela fully understood that she, Maura Isles, was not fucking around. She took her hands away, watching the room blur and twist as her eyes re-focused.

Angela held up her hands and her eyes narrowed. "Fine. But it's going to be difficult for me to visit two hospital rooms at once." Angela settled into a chair on the other side of the bed. Maura sat back down in the chair she'd claimed the first moment Jane was wheeled into the room. The only noise was the beeping of the machines and the muffled nurse chatter from the hallway.

Hours passed. It could have only been minutes. It could have been days. Maura was losing all track of time – sucked into a vortex of hospital-ness, where this is no day and no night, only nurse visits and doctors' rounds coming haphazardly ever few hours.

"I'm going to go get some dinner. Can I bring you something?" Angela stood and stretched her back. It was the first either of them had spoken in hours. Maura shook her head, but then paused. She'd had only the muffin from the morning. She knew she needed sustenance.

"Bring whatever you want," she said, her voice raw. She was so tired. "It doesn't matter."

Angela nodded and slipped out the door. Soon after, a nurse came in to record Jane's vitals and to check all the various tubes and wires coming from her body. Then the doctor arrived. She and Maura discussed Jane's medications and dosages, they talked about the recovery period that was to come, and how Jane was going to need physical therapy for a while to help recover from the bed rest she'd need to heal from the surgery. The nurse assured Maura that Jane would be able to resume all her normal activities once she was fully recovered. The new heart valve wouldn't affect her career or her life. She'd have to be monitored by a cardiologist, and her heartbeat would have a small click. Other than that, everything would eventually go back to normal. Or what served as normal.

Normal. That word made Maura wince. What had normal been just a few days ago? Working twelve hour days, eating take-out? Then the embrace in the kitchen and Maura's traitorous lips. Normal had been ruined before this happened. There was no normal to go back to.

Maura was so exhausted. She could barely stand. There was nowhere to lay down, though. And she wasn't going home. She wouldn't leave Jane. Maura eyed the hospital bed. She carefully wheeled the pumps and IV medication tower to one side of the bed and then lowered the safety rail on the other side. She was beyond caring what people thought, beyond worrying that she was breaking hospital rules, beyond worrying that her actions did not befit the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Maura kicked off her sneakers and slowly, carefully, climbed into the hospital bed next to Jane. She eased herself down, careful not to jostle Jane, and careful not to touch any of the tubes or wires. Maura felt like she'd shrunk over the past day and a half, like she was dissolving into herself, giving Jane all of her energy and breath.

Maura slowly, carefully, turned on her side and tucked her knees up against her stomach. Her shins pressed against Jane's thigh, her forehead rested against Jane's soft, warm cheek. She reached down and took Jane's limp hand and pulled it up to her own heart. She dipped her head and lightly kissed Jane's fingers before she rested her forehead back against Jane's cheek. She squeezed Jane's hand as she held it to her heart.

And just before Maura drifted off to sleep, she felt Jane squeeze her hand back.


	6. Chapter 6

_**New chapter! As always, I love to hear what you think. :)**_

_**###**_

"Son of a BITCH!"

Maura couldn't help the smile that lit up her entire face. She hurried down the hall, as Jane's shouting reverberated through the hospital wing.

Refreshed from a few hours of sleep, a shower, and more coffee than she would ever admit to, Maura bustled into Jane's hospital room. She had a bag stuffed with clean clothes, healthy snacks, and some magazines. Pretending that she and Jane were going away for a week at the spa helped her stay positive while she packed everything. Jane's hospital stay shouldn't be much longer. Her recovery was going to take a while, but Maura wasn't worried about that. She was just so happy to hear Jane's angry voice.

"God DAMMIT," Jane sputtered, holding a pillow to her chest and grimacing. She was trying to sit up higher in her bed, and it obviously hurt.

"Good morning, Jane," Maura said, setting the bag down and going immediately to the sink to wash her hands. She pushed up the sleeves of her loose Burberry sweater and reached for the soap. Under her sweater she still wore Jane's BPD t-shirt. It was a comforting secret, though now that Jane was awake, it felt a little scandalous. Maura shook her head and dried her hands. No, "scandalous" wasn't the right word. It felt… kind of ridiculous. Like she was a high school girl with a crush, and not a 37-year-old grown ass woman.

She thought about the other day when Jane had woken up for the first time since her surgery, and how she'd found Maura in the hospital bed asleep next to her. Maura had woken to Jane's raspy voice saying, "Are we having a sleepover, or is this your way of telling me you're attracted to me?" Maura had responded with a smile and whispered "both" before she was fully awake. As soon as the word tumbled from her lips, though, her eyes shot open wide, shocked at what she'd just admitted. But Jane's eyes were closed again and Maura had no idea if she'd heard her or not.

"I brought you a present," Maura said, smiling at the grouchy detective. She reached into the bag and pulled out an ipod docked in a small speaker system. "Healing mantras. They'll keep you calm and focused while you recover."

Jane didn't even try to mask her disappointment. "Healing mantr- Maura, _really_?" She clutched the pillow to her chest and shifted her weight in the bed. "Fucking cocksuckers!"

Maura laughed and set the ipod on the little table next to Jane's bed. "I also mixed in some Metallica and Rob Zombie and other angry music."

Jane's face softened and then a small smile crept through the shadows of pain. "Aw. You made me a mix tape?"

Maura chuckled. "I guess I did." They stared at each other for a beat. Another beat. Then there was a quick knock at the half-opened door and a nurse rushed in, laden with medications and various supplies.

"Time for a dressing change," the nurse chirped cheerfully. She began setting everything up on a small metal cart in the corner of the room. "I'll need you to slip off your gown, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"_Ms_." Jane and Maura said at the same time.

The nurse looked up at them and blinked. She smiled. "_Ms_. Rizzoli. Off with the gown please. Do you need assistance?"

Jane reached back to untie the loose knot behind her neck, but the movement of her arm sent a spasm of pain across her face. "Jesus fucking Christ," she gasped, slowly lowering her arm. She looked at Maura with such pain and frustration that Maura almost burst into tears. Maura _hated_ seeing Jane like this. Hated it. And yet….

Maura softly rested her hand on Jane's shoulder. "Let me help you, OK?"

Jane nodded, and bit her cheek. Her eyes fell to her lap as Maura moved closer.

"First," Maura said, "We have to do something about all this hair." She smiled and tried to ignore the way her heart leapt as she reached for Jane's mane of black curls. Maura used her fingers to gently rake Jane's hair from around her face and away from the nape of her neck. Jane's eyes closed at Maura's touch.

Maura held Jane's hair up with one hand and reached into her pocket with her other. She produced a black elastic band and put it lightly between her lips. Her other hand went back to Jane's hair, where she gathered up the curls into a loose ponytail on top of Jane's head. It was very 80s fabulous, but that's how it would have to be. Maura wanted to make sure the ponytail was high enough on Jane's head so that she could still comfortably lean back against the pillows.

Jane opened her eyes and stared at Maura as Maura held the ponytail with one hand and took the elastic band from her mouth. She carefully contained the curls with the band then stepped back to admire her work. "All you need are some leg warmers and you'll be ready for CBGB." Maura's smile was soft, small.

Jane didn't take her eyes from Maura's face. Her expression was stoic, unreadable. Then she blinked and gave a half-smile. She kicked part of the blanket aside and wiggled her toes. "I already have the leg warmers, so I guess I'm all set." Her lower legs were wrapped in compression pumps – crazy looking wraps that filled with air and then deflated, meant to mimic walking movements in calf muscles so that hospital patients don't develop blood clots from being still for too long.

Maura's head tilted ever so slightly to the side and she bit her bottom lip to keep tears from welling. "Nice," she said, embarrassed by the hitch in her voice. "You're all set for a night of clubbing."

"Gown, please," the nurse said. She pushed the cart closer to the bed. It was covered in various sterile implements. Maura reached behind Jane's neck and untied the loose knot that was holding her gown in place. "I can step outside, if you wan-" she said, but Jane interrupted.

"Oh, please. It's not anything you haven't seen before." Her voice was joking, but Maura could see the fear in her eyes. This would be Jane's first dressing change since being awake. Her first glimpse at the incision. At the staples holding her chest together. At the new scar added to her collection.

Jane moved her shoulders and the loose gown tumbled to her lap, exposing her naked chest and the white bandage taped down the center of it. Maura kept her eyes trained on Jane's face. They held each other's gaze as the nurse busied herself with removing the bandage. Here and there Jane would wince and Maura reached for her hand.

"Just give me a squeeze when it hurts," Maura said. "I can take it. I'm tough." She gave a half-hearted smile. Jane took her hand, never taking her eyes off of Maura's face. She squeezed even when she wasn't hurting. Maura squeezed back.

When the nurse ripped the final piece of tape off Jane yelled, "FUCKER!" startling the nurse and making Maura laugh.

"You know, there are studies that prove swearing has an analgesic effect on people suffering sudden pain." Maura squeezed Jane's hand.

"Goddamn fucking horseshit bastards," Jane said, her voice as soft as it would be if she were telling a goodnight story. Her eyes were liquid black as she looked at the ME. "I've missed your fun facts, Maura."

"And I've missed you, Jane," Maura said, unable to hold back the tears that were welling for real now.

The nurse replaced the gauze and added new tape. "All set. You can pull up your gown now." She turned her back to clean up the tray of supplies.

Jane let go of Maura's hand and reached into her lap for her gown. She winced at the movement.

"Here," Maura said. "Let me." She leaned over Jane, taking the crumpled gown from Jane's lap and pulling it up with both hands. For just the hint of a second she let herself glance at Jane's breasts. Jane's perfect breasts, moving up and down with Jane's perfect breathing. Maura swallowed hard and pulled the gown up to Jane's neck, tying it lightly behind her.

"Thanks," Jane said, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"You're welcome," Maura answered. Her hands were still linked around Jane's neck from having leaned over to tie the gown. Her face was still very close to Jane's face, almost _too_ close. Maura's hair fell as a curtain, blocking out the nurse who was bustling her way out of the room now, and leaving only Jane and Maura to look at each other, read each other's faces. Maura could smell her own shampoo mingling with Jane's sweat, with the smell of paper tape and sterile gauze. And she could hear the monitors attached to Jane's body – particularly the heart monitor.

The longer Maura held this position, with her arms around Jane's neck, her face so close to Jane's face, the strength and speed of Jane's heart rate increased rapidly. Soon, the only sound in the room was their breathing and a cacophony of wonderful, glorious, life-affirming beeps.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you so much for the reviews and the comments. Hearing what you guys think really makes my day. **_

_**I hope you like this chapter. It's short, but sweet. A little calm before the storm, I think. :) As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**_

_**###**_

"I'm fine, Maura. Really."

"You're not fine."

"I am. I'm great."

"Really?"

"That's my line."

Maura shook her head, fighting a smile. "I want you to walk to the bathroom, change out of that gown, put on your jeans and a shirt, walk back to me, then grab your bag. I'll time you." Maura crossed her arms over her chest and gave Jane a cold stare. Well, as cold as she could manage. Seeing Jane standing in front of her, all in one piece, being her regular stubborn self… Maura's sense of relief and overall happiness was almost enough to literally stagger her.

Jane eyed the bathroom door. It was only about four strides away. She eyed the neatly folded pile of clothes on the counter. She bit her bottom lip, her forehead condensing in concentrated wrinkles. "Start your timer," she said.

"Jane, I was only proving a point, I…"

Jane lurched forward, taking two steps toward the pile of clothes. She wobbled and Maura caught her by the elbow.

"Jesus Fuck," Jane said. "I didn't break my legs. What is wrong with me?"

"Even as little as 24 hours on total bed rest can cause muscle atrophy. You've been bedridden for over a week, Jane. And on top of that your body has undergone major surgery. You can bounce back from this, you just can't do it overnight."

Jane squinted at Maura, as if deciding whether she was going to argue. Maura shrugged and said, "Don't kill the messenger. I'm just reporting what decades of science has proven. The human body is fallible, Jane. Even yours." She rubbed Jane's back, her palm catching a bit of Jane's warm skin through the opening of the gown. Maura resisted the temptation to run her hand under the gown so she could smooth her hand over Jane's shoulder blade. Inappropriate, her brain blinked at her. Inappropriate now, and maybe forever. She moved her hand to Jane's waist, felt herself flush, and moved it to her own hip. "You don't want to overdo it. It will just increase your rehabilitation time."

"So what does that _mean_?" Jane gave Maura a fierce look, her voice coming out deep and angry.

"It means you, Jane Rizzoli, are going to have to depend on other people to help you for a little while. You can't go rogue while your body heals from getting a brand new heart valve."

Jane's mouth pressed into a line, then she glanced at Maura – really looked her in the eyes – and then looked at her feet. "It's exhausting just standing here," she muttered. Maura led her back to the bed, and helped her ease into it. Jane leaned her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Why is this so much harder than getting shot?"

"That was a through and through, Jane," Maura said softly, tucking the blanket in around Jane's legs. "It only nicked one internal organ. This is a completely different scenario. Your body…."

Jane held up a hand, but kept her eyes closed. "Fine. Yes. I get it. Remind me that next time I need a few weeks off of work I should A) either shoot myself or B) go to the beach. Never C) have my heart stop while jogging. Never choose C."

"I don't think either of us would ever choose C, Jane," Maura said, holding up a cup of water with a straw. She nudged Jane's lips with the straw. Jane opened one eye and took a sip. Maura set the cup back down on the little bedside table. "I don't think either of us would choose A, either." Maura settled into the chair next to Jane's bed and leaned her elbows on her knees. Her instinct was to lean over and kiss Jane's cheek. Instead, Maura smoothed Jane's hair away from her face. "But maybe, when you're fully recovered, we can choose B. B sounds really nice." When Maura was finished fussing with Jane's hair, Jane was already asleep.

The door opened softly and Maura moved her hand from where it rested on Jane's head, to Jane's arm.

"Maura," Angela said, her voice low. "When was the last time you went home?" She set down several bags and came up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Maura let her head tilt and rest on Angela's hand. It was nice to have a mother in the room, even if she wasn't her own.

"I went home for a few hours last night, to make sure the handyman had prepared everything correctly."

"The handymen?" Angela's voice went up a confused octave.

"I've had the guest room prepared for Jane," Maura said, her matter-of-fact doctor tone kicking in. "She's going to need someone to keep an eye on her for the next few months. Someone who can help her with basic daily needs, and to make sure she gets to her physical therapy and doctor's appointments."

"Someone like… her mother?" Angela's voice was joking, but also sharp.

Maura lifted her head from Angela's hand and looked up, surprised.

"I was planning to move in with Jane," Angela admitted. "It would be easy for me to take some time off of work and to stay with her. She's always more comfortable in her own apartment."

"She's hardly ever _at_ her apartment, Angela," Maura said, feeling her heart rate increase and her face flush. "She spends more nights in my guest room than she does at her place. And I am a doctor, after all. Having her close-by… I would just feel better to be able to keep an eye on things."

Angela shook her head. "Jane isn't going to like that, Maura. You know her. You know how she likes her space."

"Well, I don't think having her mother move in with her is something she's counting on," Maura said with a harsh laugh. She heard the edge in her voice and felt immediately guilty. She shouldn't have said that. "Wait. Angela. I didn't mean…"

"No, it's fine," Angela said, taking a step back and crossing her arms. Her voice sounded like it was anything but fine. She walked around to the other side of the bed and kissed Jane's forehead. While she was bent down, her eyes lifted to catch Maura's steady gaze. "Just be sure you know what you're getting into."

"I know what…" Maura's voice was almost a whisper. She cleared her throat. "I know what I'm getting into."

Angela stood up, looked pointedly at Maura's hand on Jane's arm and then back up at Maura's face. "Do you?"

Maua slid her hand from Jane's arm and into her own lap. She swallowed, unable to meet Angela's eye.

Angela walked around the bed and knelt by Maura's side. She put a finger under Maura's chin and lifted her face. "Look at me, Maura." Maura reluctantly moved her gaze to Angela's eyes. Angela opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again. She sighed, a very small smile appearing at one side of her mouth. She suddenly grabbed Maura into a bone crushing hug. Maura's face was crushed into Angela's hair and she felt herself melt into the mom-ness of the embrace.

"I love you both too much to see either of you get hurt. And nursing Jane isn't easy." Angela's voice was soft in Maura's ear. "Jane isn't easy."

Maura pushed back from the embrace. "I know that, Angela. I know Jane better than I know myself."

"You are such a liar," Jane's voice was raspy with sleep, a grin spreading over her face, her eyes still closed.

Maura puffed out a laugh, and pulled herself completely out of Angela's embrace so she could face Jane. "I am not lying, Jane Rizzoli. Do you see any hives?" She held out her forearms, and leaned forward. Jane peeked open one eye, aimed squarely, and probably accidentally, at Maura's cleavage.

"I wouldn't call those hives," Jane laughed.

Maura very gently shoved her shoulder.

"Oh, you two," Angela groaned. She rolled her eyes. "I don't know what to do with either of you."

"How about finding us some lunch?" Jane asked. She winced as she repositioned herself in the bed. "Maybe after a burger and fries I'll have enough energy to put on some real clothes."

"I'll find your doctor and see what _she_ says you can eat. What would you like, Maura?"

Maura shrugged. She didn't care. Food was not her priority these days. "Anything that looks good, please. No trans fats. No artificial ingredients."

Angela rolled her eyes again, but she smiled and nodded as she pulled open the door. It swung closed behind her.

"Were you and my mother really fighting over who gets to take care of me?" Jane laughed and then her face immediately crumpled with pain. Maura's face crumpled at Jane's face crumpling in pain.

"We weren't fighting, Jane. Just talking."

"Oh, right. Mmm-hmm. Whatever you say, Dr. Isles."

Maura was delighted at the return of sassy Jane. "I think we settled it, anyway. You're coming home with me."

"Am I?" Jane raised one eyebrow.

Maura couldn't help but laugh at Jane's expression. Was she flirting? Or was this just regular Jane behavior? So much had changed – and yet so much had stayed the same. She had no idea if her overwhelming feelings were being broadcast to Jane. What had Jane heard or sensed while she'd been in and out of consciousness? What did she remember while under the haze of pain medication and recovery? Maura had let her guard down over the past week and a half. She'd been so worried about Jane she could only focus on getting her friend well again. Her emotions had the run of her.

Maura's face must have been filled with emotion, because Jane's joking face softened. "I don't love the idea of anyone taking care of me, Maura. You know that."

Maura nodded.

"But I know there isn't anyone in the world I'd _rather_ have take care of me than you."

Maura nodded again, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

"I mean, if I _have_ to have someone helping me not slip and die in the shower, I want that person to be you."

Maura's head tilted to the side, a small smile playing at her lips. "I've had hand rails installed in the guest shower," she said quietly.

"Of course you have," Jane said quietly back. "Come here." She patted the bed next to her.

Maura walked around the bed, kicked off her shoes, lowered the safety rail, and climbed in. She gently laid her head on Jane's shoulder and Jane put her hand on Maura's thigh.

"I would love nothing more than to inspect the handrails you've had installed for me," Jane whispered, her eyes smiling, but her face serious. Her hand rubbed lightly back and forth on Maura's leg. "I would love nothing more than that."

Maura closed her eyes and tentatively put her hand on top of Jane's. At the touch, Jane closed her eyes, too.

Everything was changing.

Both women took a deep breath and sighed in unison. No one said anything.

They didn't have to.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Don't hate me for this chapter. I have to. I HAVE TO. The first rule of writer's club is to be mean to your characters and readers. But only so they'll love you more in the end. ;)**_

_**As always, I love to hear what you think!**_

_**###**_

"Oh my God, Maura, you did not." Jane dropped her bag in the doorway of Maura's guest room. She started laughing, but immediately grabbed her chest and sucked in a breath of pained air.

Maura put a hand on Jane's elbow. "Are you OK?"

Jane waved her off. "It just hurts to laugh." She kept her hand over her heart as she looked around the room. A grin was playing at the sides of her mouth. One eyebrow arched. "Seriously. Am I twelve? Do you think I'm twelve?"

Maura's smile was shy. "I wanted to make sure you'd be comfortable. Really comfortable."

They stood side-by-side staring at the room – Jane seeing it for the first time, and Maura seeing it for the first time through Jane's eyes. The entire space was decorated with Red Sox paraphernalia. It wasn't gaudy, though, and certainly not filled with junk from a fan gift shop. The bedspread was in muted red, the walls covered in signed pennants and black and white game photos that were framed in a dark cherrywood. There was memorabilia on shelves tastefully placed along on the walls. And on the nightstand next to the bed was a ball signed by every member of the most recent World Series winning team.

Jane slowly walked the perimeter of the room, her mouth falling open as she took in the extraordinary collectibles Maura had found.

"Maura," Jane whispered. "This is a signed photo of Ted Williams."

Maura came up behind Jane, so close she could smell the soap from Jane's morning shower. "I know a guy," she said softly.

Jane whipped her head around, nearly crashing noses with Maura. "You _know_ a guy?"

Maura flushed. "Well, a collectibles dealer. You should have seen his face when I told him what I wanted to do with this room. He was like a little kid on Christmas."

Jane's hand went to a shelf where she picked up a framed baseball card. "Babe Ruth. 1919." Her hand went to her mouth. "Oh my God, Maura. This is all just…" she spun around the room trying to take it all in. "It's too much. I don't know what to…"

"Don't say anything, Jane," Maura said, trying to keep her voice steady, trying not grab Jane in a tight hug and cry into her shoulder. "I'm glad you like the room." She bit her bottom lip for the quickest of seconds, lifted her eyes to Jane's, saw the tenderness burning in those black, shining eyes, then looked away. Her heart began to thrum. "Why don't you get settled. It's time for your meds. Would you like a glass of water?"

Jane glanced to the bathroom, immaculate as always, and saw several clean glasses by the sink. "I think I can manage," she said with a smile.

"No, let me go get you some water. You need to be resting, Jane. You shouldn't be up and moving around so much, you'll exhaust yourself. That's why you're _here_. So you don't exhaust yourself." Maura turned and quickly walked out of the room, leaving Jane with a puzzled look on her face.

In the kitchen, Maura grabbed onto the counter for support. She took several deep breaths and shook her head, tendrils of her caramel hair accidentally coming free from the loose ponytail at the base of her neck. What was she doing? This was ridiculous. She hadn't really thought about what Jane's room would actually look like to Jane. She thought finding Red Sox collectibles would be a nice gesture, but then she got carried away. It was like a museum in there. She'd probably spent more than Jane's annual salary on rare signed photographs alone. Maura shook her head again. She was doing this all wrong. But what _was_ this? Was she trying to woo Jane? That was ridiculous. They were already wooed. Jane was hers, she knew it. She could feel it in her gut, even though she didn't like to think with her gut. What she needed was proof. Evidence. Where could she get proof that Jane felt for her the way she felt for Jane? What rock could she turn over? What swab could she put on a slide? Where was the scientific evidence that Jane loved her?

"Maura?"

Maura's head flew up and in the direction of Jane's voice.

"You OK in there?"

"Yes. Yes, fine." Maura knew her voice sounded weird. She felt her neck start to itch.

"I'm not an invalid you know," Jane said, walking into the room. "I can actually walk around the house and get my own glass of wat-" Jane stopped when she saw Maura's face. "Hey," she said, her voice going an octave deeper, and softer. "You're not OK, are you?"

Maura couldn't find her voice. She looked into Jane's concerned eyes and then dropped her gaze to the countertop. She shook her head. Ever since the kitchen that night, the run, the surgery, Jane's hospital stay... Maura had felt filled with emotion. Her body wasn't big enough to contain everything she felt. One minute she felt like her love for Jane was so intense and pure that blinding light would shoot from her fingertips. The next, she was morose, drowning in a fear of unrequited feelings. Then she'd find herself feeling guilty over both feelings. She wasn't a lovesick teenager. She was a grown woman. A professional. Sometimes even a public figure. She was the kind of person who always had her shit together, so to speak. Except for now. Except for when it mattered most.

"Maura. Come on. What is it?" Jane stepped closer to Maura and put her hands over the ME's. "What's going on?"

"I'm just so glad you're OK, Jane," Maura whispered to the countertop, staring at their intertwined hands. "I have never been so grateful in my life than I am right now, seeing you standing here with me." Her voice was barely audible, and when she looked up, tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, Maura," Jane said, pulling her into a stiff, careful, pained embrace. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I'm so sorry for all of this."

Maura buried her face in Jane's neck, her hair, taking in Jane's warmth, her scent, smelling the lingering sharpness of antiseptic and the paper tape from Jane's bandage under her shirt. Maura tried not to press herself too hard against Jane. She knew this hug must be hurting her, but she was grateful for the contact. So grateful.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Maura said into Jane's hair, sniffing back a sob. "None of this was your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. Just a failure of the human body that, thank goodness, could be corrected with modern medical science." Maura hiccuped as she struggled not to cry, and Jane gave a low, sympathetic chuckle.

"Hey, hey," Jane purred, rubbing Maura's back. "It's OK. Really. I'm right here. I'm fine."

Maura couldn't hold back anymore. All of the trauma from the past few weeks, these overwhelming feelings, her fear and desire that everything between the two of them was changing… Maura let go. And she wept. And Jane held her until she couldn't cry anymore. Then Jane put Maura to bed. She helped her take off her sweater so she wouldn't be too hot, and that's when Jane saw her BPD tshirt, hugging Maura's curves like a second skin. Jane said nothing, just tucked the covers around Maura, pulled the blinds closed and left her to get her first real night's sleep in several weeks.

Jane went back to her own room and sat on the bed, her head in her hands. Something was happening. Something was changing. What was she feeling? Her mind was fuzzy, her hands shaky. Was it from all the medications, from standing up for so long, from pretending like she felt fine when she was really exhausted and in pain and needing to sleep for what felt like days? Or was it something else? An image of Maura floated behind her closed eyes. Maura's shining hair. Maura's rosy lips dipping in concern and then lifting in a smile. Maura's soft neck. The little dark freckle just under her right ear.

Jane's phone rang, making her jump. Her hand went instinctively to the ache in her chest. She grabbed her phone, smiling, thinking maybe Maura was calling form the other room. But then she saw the ID.

It was Casey.

He was home.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of the reviews and feedback - keep 'em coming. I love hearing from you! I'm so, so sorry it's taken me 157 years to finish this chapter. But I hope you like it. :)**_

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"Hello, Maura." Casey's voice was warm, polite. Just like always.

Maura forced a smile. "Casey. Come in." She opened the door wider and Casey stepped through the doorway. He wore braces on both legs, but his gait was smoother now. He was regaining full function of his legs at a remarkable pace. Maura took in his boyish smile, the crook of his grin, the wideness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. He was an attractive man. She couldn't argue with that. Yet, even with his good looks and considerable politeness, it always seemed to her that he was toying with Jane. And now… with this marriage ultimatum… ugh. Maura didn't even like to think about it. She knew Jane would confide in her when she was ready, so Maura hadn't brought the subject up since the first time Jane mentioned it. But it ate away at her on an almost daily basis. Jane and Casey. If she was honest with herself, it broke her heart. It shattered it, really.

"Jane is right back here," Maura said, smiling, motioning for Casey to follow her. They made quick small talk. How long had he been back? How was Afghanistan? How was Maura's work? How was Jane?

Maura knocked lightly on the bedroom door and Jane's husky voice called, "Come in!" Maura pushed open the door and stood back, letting Casey walk past her and into the room. Jane looked up, catching Maura's eye for just a minute and Maura couldn't quite decipher her expression. She almost looked pained, but… Maura looked at her watch… it wasn't time for Jane's medication. She was tapering off of it anyway. Maura returned Jane's look with what she hoped was an encouraging smile, even though her head pounded and her stomach roiled. She pulled the door closed and stood in the hallway for a moment, just staring at the closed door. When the murmuring voices behind the door started up, Maura stepped away and took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to listen in she couldn't. Jane needed to feel safe in this house. And Maura was no snoop. Though, God, right now she wanted to be.

Back in the kitchen, Maura poured herself a glass of wine, found a medical journal, put in her earbuds and blasted whatever Pandora chose for her.

Two glasses of wine and one article on Circumstances of Accidental Poisoning later, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She popped out an earbud and turned with a smile, expecting to see Jane. Casey held his hands up and gave her a sheepish look.

"I'll let myself out," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that Jane is… free now." His face was lined even though he was badly attempting to smile. He turned to leave before Maura had a chance to immediately respond.

"Thank you for coming by, Casey," Maura called after him a moment later, feeling hypocritical because of the overly friendly tone in her voice. She stood to catch up to him. She might feel hypocritical, and she might have never liked the on again off again status of Casey and Jane's relationship, but that was no reason to be a rude host.

Maura caught up to him at the door. They reached for the knob at the same time and she deferred to him. Casey opened the door and turned to face her.

"Take care of her, Maura," he said as he walked through the doorway, pulling the door shut before Maura had time to gather her thoughts to respond.

Both of his statements could be construed in a variety of ways and Maura's heart quickened. She immediately felt guilty for hoping that it was over between Jane and Casey. Of course she didn't want Jane to go through any more pain, physically or emotionally. And of course she wanted Jane to be happy. But honestly, would Casey make her happy? Jane was a different person when she was around him. Her smiles were strange, her body language stiff and self-aware. It was as if she were Jane pretending to be Jane instead of being just… Jane.

Maura shook her head. Her thoughts were muddled with wine, her emotions conflicting. She didn't know if she was ready to admit the true reason why she never wanted Jane and Casey to be together. She didn't know if Jane was ready to hear her admit it. She didn't know if Jane ever would be.

Maura wished she hadn't had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach.

She wished her thoughts were making more sense.

She wished her feet weren't taking her down the hallway to Jane's room.

She wished her knuckles weren't gently knocking on the door.

She wished her voice wasn't soft and needy, murmuring, "Jane? Are you OK?" through the door.

She wished Jane didn't look so flushed and beautiful when she opened the door.

She wished she could find words to say. Any words.

She felt the wine swimming through her head.

She felt her lips, warm from the alcohol, dampen with a quick swipe of her tongue.

She felt her cheeks burn.

She saw Jane's pupils dilate.

She really wished she hadn't seen that.

"He's gone," Jane whispered.

"I know," Maura whispered back.

Neither woman moved, their eyes locking them in place.

"I'm going to go to bed," Jane said, her voice so quiet.

"OK," Maura answered, not breaking eye contact, aware that her breathing had increased to the point of making her breasts rise up and down in her low-cut sweater.

Jane made no move to shut the door. Maura made no move to leave the doorway. They were playing a game of chicken that neither one had expected to be playing. At least not at this moment. Not under these circumstances.

"Jane," Maura whispered, her voice barely audible. All on its own, her body leaned forward a miniscule degree.

Jane swallowed, her eyes breaking contact and making a quick glance up and down Maura's body.

"Good night, Maura," Jane said, her voice two octaves lower than normal. Her eyes were on Maura's lips. Not moving from Maura's lips. Fixed on Maura's lips.

"Good night, Jane," Maura whispered back.

No one made a move to break the stalemate until Jane sighed, moved her eyes to Maura's eyes, swallowed hard again, and pushed the door slowly shut.

Maura blinked, the spell broken by the closed door inches from her nose. She turned and leaned her head against it, struggling to regulate her breathing.

What

the

fuck

just

happened.


End file.
